


Interlude in a Storm

by balloonstand



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6339823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balloonstand/pseuds/balloonstand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silver prefers not to stay in the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude in a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergent? Canon AU? You decide.

The rain comes first. It seems to come even before the clouds. Silver tilts his head up to catch the light droplets on his face and he can see the moon. But the clouds follow the rain and they bring the true storm with them. The men, they are wary of this change in weather, the previous storm still looming in their minds and bellies.

This storm is a gentle shadow of that one. It confines itself to the sky; there is thunder and rain and lightning, but no crushing waves, hardly even choppy water. The sea is calm tonight.

The men follow its example. They relax, voices growing soft and conversations mostly halting altogether. Silver outwardly schools himself to match their behavior, but it is inauthentic. His mind is too loud to be commanded by the sea like theirs are. He is agitated. The more they relax, the more agitated he becomes. When the rain becomes heavier, Silver is among the first to move belowdeck. 

His feet carry him to Flint’s door. He tells himself that he didn’t mean to come this way, but now that he has, he may as well knock. He wants to linger on the safer side of Flint’s door- no, he wants to pass the room by completely, to compose himself quietly and away from anyone else. He wants to not want to seek out Flint.

He knocks on the door. 

Flint calls for him to enter. Silver turns the knob, opens the door. He crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him. He is unusually aware of each movement and it is difficult to perform them naturally. He is depending on Flint to be as unsettled as he is, and he is gratified to see the familiar rigid tension in Flint’s posture, even sitting as he is at his desk, a reflection of his own state of mind.

“What is it?” Flint asks. 

Silver, for the barest moment, thinks Flint is asking about his mood, his restlessness. He realizes in the same heartbeat that Flint thinks he is here to give some sort of report, and that is what he is asking about. Silver, loathe to disappoint, straightens a bit and rattles off every bit of information he can recall and that Flint would not have heard yet. He allows his mouth to run on its own while his mind is engaged elsewhere.

Flint, he observes, is tense just as Silver is, exactly as he had hoped to find him. But there is something more- Flint’s mood is textured where Silver’s is flat. Silver is seeing something here, though he does not know what. Flint’s face is settled into its usual lines, formidably unreadable. He has one hand on his lap- near a weapon, Silver thinks. After all this time and all that has passed between them and Flint is wary of him. Silver cannot settle on how that makes him feel. His other hand is visible, laying flat on a closed book on the desk. As though he had closed the book before calling Silver in and forgotten to take his hand away, leaving it there like a caress. Or as though he wants to be certain that the book will not be opened as long as Silver remains nearby. 

Silver’s gut reacts viscerally to that last thought. _Another fucking secret_ , he thinks. _Another fucking thing on the top of a pile of Flint’s lies and secrets and greeds_ \- these are his thoughts, and they surprise him. Not the irritation with Flint and his ever-deepening pit of shit; that feeling is both natural and persistent. No, not that, but the plaintive hurt that underlies it. He has given Flint a lifetime’s worth of reasons to mistrust him. He cannot be hurt when he feels the result of his actions. 

“The rain seems mild,” Silver concludes. “I doubt the men will even notice it.”

Flint quirks an eyebrow at that, perhaps thinking of the last storm they encountered. “Anything else?” he asks. Silver drops his eye to the book. Thunder sounds distantly and Flint shifts in his chair. “Anything else?” he repeats, a steel-edged question this time. A challenge.

Silver shivers. Challenges never used to take him this way before Flint. Silver sees a clear divide defining his life: before meeting Flint and after. 

“I had hoped I could stay here for a while,” Silver says, “while it rains.”

Flint smirks at him. “You object to a little weather?”

Silver says, “I prefer to avoid discomfort where it is not entirely necessary.”

“You may be on the wrong ship, then.”

“What is that book?” Silver says it in a rush, in a single breath. He hadn’t meant to. But the question must not take Flint by surprise as it does Silver because Flint doesn’t react for a long moment, just looks at Silver. He slides his hand across the cover. Then he drops his eyes. 

“I see,” Silver says. His voice is tight. “Another secret that is just yours.” Flint had spoken the word _partners_ to him, but Silver had not believed it. He could not believe that Flint could be a true partner to anyone. He feels vindicated now. “I will leave you, then.” 

He turns to do so, his gut churning. Flint’s voice stops him.

“Don’t-”

Silver waits. Flint still isn’t looking at him. He runs his hand across the cover of the book. Silver’s heart beats faster. He wonders what could be in this book to make Flint so reluctant to share it. He is not certain he can abide another Urca misadventure. Perhaps he should not have pried. 

“It was a gift,” Flint says finally. In an abrupt movement, he opens the book and turns it so Silver can see what is on the page. Silver braces himself before looking down. 

_James my truest love. Know no shame._

Silver feels the boat shift beneath him and he sways. _My truest love_. The phrase is the heaviest Silver has ever known, weighted down with emotion and history- and Silver should not be tugging at this thread. His sense for self-preservation is better than this. 

“T.H.?” he asks.

“Thomas Hamilton.” Flint’s eyes are fixed on a point beyond Silver’s left shoulder. 

Silver closes his mouth, for once all his questions answered. _Don’t be surprised_ , he tells himself, _it is not so surprising_. He wants to touch the letters on the page to verify with touch what sight has already told him exists. 

“You- he loves you.”

“And I him,” Flint says. He sounds almost angry and Silver is surprised to find that this calms him somewhat. It is familiar, at least. 

“Who is he?”

“He’s dead.”

Flint’s tone is final. The period at the end of a sentence, the turn of a key in a lock, the bullet burying itself in a body. Silver can guess well enough the story. Two men loved each other, one died for it. The other was ruined in a different way and became a pirate. His vague abstract understanding that Flint had a life before Nassau is suddenly real enough to bleed.

“You should not have told me this,” Silver says. Had he learned of this earlier when he first met Flint, he could have easily turned it into Flint’s downfall. No one in Nassau would be offended to learn that he was a sodomite, but Silver could have used this knowledge against him other ways. Imply to Flint that he shared his inclinations, use that to gain his trust. Hurt him with these memories. Seduce him. Any number of things. Flint should not have told him this.

Flint regards him steadily, calmly. “There is no harm that could come of it now.”

“I could tell the others.”

“Tell them. I am not ashamed.”

Silver’s gaze dips down to the elegant script on the page. Flint’s tone betrays him. There is shame there, at least a little. More than any of the rest of it, that makes Silver ache on Flint’s behalf. 

“There are other ways to use this against you,” he says quietly. _Seduce him_. 

“As I said, there is no harm that could come of it now.”

_Now_. Silver is caught by the last word. _Now_. 

_Damn him_ , Silver thinks viciously. _Why can he never say what he means?_ Does he mean that he trusts Silver not to use this against him now? That Silver couldn’t hurt him with this if he tried? Silver grits his teeth. Speaking to Flint often – always – leaves him with more questions than he began with. And just when he supposed he would be getting only answers. It makes his head hurt and his stomach feel bottomless. 

“I wouldn’t,” Silver says shortly, after a pause. “Not now.”

“Of course not,” Flint says quietly. 

Silver frowns. “I wouldn’t,” he repeats, unsure if he made himself clear. 

Flint looks him in the eye. Silver is pinned by that gaze. He has tried over and again to fortify himself, mind and body, against that look. It opens him up, leaves him ajar, and he never knows what Flint will pull out of him. Lightning flashes through the window. Silver realizes he is holding his breath and he lets it out as the thunder answers the lightning. The crackle of the storm is in this room. The air between Silver and Flint is heavy with- something. Silver wants to shy away from even thinking it. It’s what brought him to Flint tonight, what brings him to him every time. 

Silver has a hundred questions, and he is unsure which to ask. To ask one instead of another could lead them in very different directions. Silver stands at a crossroads and has no map to guide him to the correct path.

Flint reads Silver perfectly, and with evident ease. “Ask me,” he says.

And as much as Silver burns with curiosity – it’s his nature – as much as he needs to know, he almost wishes Flint would just throw him out instead. What he has already learned feels like a heavy enough burden, and he has no desire to add to it. He wonder if Flint feels lighter for passing the secret to him. To ask any more would be dangerous. The thought sends a crackle down his body, a shot of heat from his shoulders to his knees like he has been struck by the lightning outside. 

“You said _now_ ,” he says. “Tonight?”

“Now that I know.”

“Know what?”

“That I want you.”

He says it so calmly, so assuredly. He says it like it doesn’t set the world at an angle, leaving Silver off-kilter and floundering. Flint is right, Silver could not use this against him now. 

“Nothing? No cleverness from that silver tongue?”

“I had not thought it would happen this way,” Silver says. 

Flint’s eyes narrow. “You have never thought of this at all. Not ever.”

“Don’t tell me what I have thought.” Silver has imagined hearing those words from Flint, _I want you_. Alone, he has closed his eyes and let himself imagine the sound of Flint’s voice and the look in his eyes as he say it. It always made him flush with heat and embarrassment because it felt so good and even more foolish. The Urca treasure, Nassau, and England herself all seemed more attainable. But even in his imagination, he had not thought it could happen like this, with Flint coolly telling him of his desires, seated at his desk and clean.

“You have thought of it? You have feared it?”

“I had thought-“ Silver looks again at the words Hamilton wrote for Flint, rereads them. When he looks back at Flint, Flint is watching him with something like surprise. His eyes are wide and his lips slightly parted. “I had thought you would turn me away,” Silver says, honestly. The words scrape his throat on the way out. 

“Turn you away?” It is almost a growl.

“Yes.”

Flint stands abruptly. He walks around the desk and stands very close to Silver, though he doesn’t touch him. Opposing impulses war within Silver, to take a step back or one forward. He stays where he is. 

Flint tilts his head, the right angle to bring their mouths together, but then he does not lean in to do so. Flint looks like he is ready to eat Silver whole. A hungry glint shines in his eyes, the kind Silver loves and fears to see there. It means impossible odds, stupid fucking risks, the possibility of untold rewards. Another challenge. A challenge, a test, a- a-

Silver does it, he yanks Flint by the back of the neck into a kiss. He begins it with parted lips so there can be no questions, no doubt. Flint matches him and they kiss hungrily until they break apart to gasp for breath.

Flint traces the line of Silver’s jaw and Silver’s eyes slip shut. If Flint could see his questions in his face before, he must surely see his lust clear and plain now. Silver forces his eyes open to look honestly at Flint. There is no point trying to hide. Flint is looking intently at him. He smiles, just a twitch of the corners of his mouth, but a true smile. Then he kisses him. He bites at Silver’s lower lip, then kisses along his jaw to his ear. Silver’s hands come up of their own accord and he grasps at Flint’s back. His face feels hot and each new kiss burns itself into his skin; he hopes they leave marks that will stay with him forever.

“Flint,” Silver gasps as Flint takes his earlobe between his teeth and bites. 

“My name is James,” Flint says, pulling back to look at him in the eye. “Say it.”

Silver knows his name. In his mind, he sees the name in Hamilton’s handwriting. “James,” he says slowly. It almost doesn’t suit him. Silver still wants to call him Flint. But Flint is untrustworthy and a killer. Maybe James can be a lover. “James,” he says again with more certainty. 

“John,” Flint says, his voice low and his eyes soft. They lock gazes and neither looks away for a quiet, contented moment. Flint strokes Silver’s cheekbone with his thumb and Silver’s eyes flutter closed, breaking the small spell.

_This isn’t real_ , he tells himself. There is not this much tenderness is his whole world, and certainly not within Flint. If he thinks too long, he’ll begin to hate Flint too much to allow this to continue. So he closes his mind to thought.

He takes Flint’s mouth with his own, opens it and slides his tongue in. He wants to devour Flint completely. The kiss is slow but leagues deep and hungry. Silver can feel him at every point along his body. Flint’s heat pools against Silver’s chest, his belly, his groin, his thighs. One of Flint’s boots is snuggly set between Silver’s. They cannot get close enough to each other to satisfy themselves. Flint’s hands are on Silver’s back, pressing hard as he holds him against his body. Silver has two fistfuls of Flint’s coat. They rock against one another. Silver can feel every plane of muscle in Flint’s body. He lets go of Flint’s coat and lets his fingers dance along the hard line of Flint’s jaw. _Oh_ , he thinks, _oh, oh_. 

Flint kisses down his neck, bending his head to reach the junction of Silver’s neck and his shoulder. He applies his teeth, then swipes over it with his tongue. Sparks of pleasure burn through Silver’s body.

“Let me,” Silver hears himself say. “Let- please let me.”

Flint loosens his hold on Silver and tilts his head back so he can look at him. Between the candle and the lightning, Silver can see the flush on his cheeks and the red, wet look of his mouth. Silver drops to his knees. 

He wants to do it smoothly but his cuff digs into the sensitive skin of his stump and he slumps clumsily to the side to alleviate the pressure. “Fuck,” he spits out. Flint drops down beside him and Silver turns his face away. 

“Come on,” Flint says. “Sit in the chair.”

Silver sets his shoulders, ready to be hatefully stubborn, but Flint’s hands on him are gentle. He lets himself be guided to the chair. The captain’s chair, he realizes once he is settled in it. Flint watches him with a strange look on his face. Silver puts his hands on Flint’s hips and pulls him close. Flint has to straddle Silver’s legs to get close enough and it send a wave of lust through Silver’s body. Flint undoes his laces and pulls himself out. Silver pushes his hand away so he can wrap his own around Flint’s shaft. He looks up to watch Flint’s face as he does so. 

Flint’s eyes are slits, like he can hardly keep them open. His jaw is slack with pleasure. Silver can hardly breath. He strokes Flint once and watches everything in his expression intensify. 

“John,” Flint says, his hips thrusting.

Silver recognizes a plea when he hears one. He has to lean forward in the chair to get his mouth around the head of Flint’s cock. He sucks hard, being careful to guard his teeth. Flint moans and rests his hands on Silver’s head. Silver runs his tongue around the head of Flint’s cock, then follows the pleasing texture of a large vein down the shaft. He looks up to see Flint heavy-lidded with pleasure, his lower lip between his teeth. He brushes his fingers through Silver’s hair, then nudges his head back down gently. Silver leans his elbows on his thighs and takes Flint in his mouth again. 

This position is uncomfortable and it traps his erection almost painfully, but Silver hardly notices. The taste of Flint’s cock in his mouth, Flint’s hands in his hair, the little sounds Flint makes- Silver has no room to think of anything else. He works his mouth gracelessly up and down Flint’s shaft. It is smooth and salty and Silver loves it. Satisfied sounds escape from deep in his throat as he takes Flint’s cock as far as he can. Flint’s stuttering thrusts and his happy groans tell him Flint loves this too. Before long, before Silver’s jaw even begins to ache from holding his mouth open, Flint lays a warning hand on the back of Silver’s neck. 

_Do it_ , Silver thinks desperately. 

Flint does. His cock jerks and he comes in Silver’s mouth in a hot flood. Silver swallows it down quickly and pulls away to relieve the ache in his back. Flint reaches out and brushes his thumb against the corner of his mouth. He looks dazed and sated. Silver has never been so hard, never wanted a person so much. It paralyzes him. 

Flint pulls him to his feet, draws him into a kiss. Silver is frantic with lust now. He rubs himself shamelessly on Flint’s hip, desperate for the friction. Flint slips a hand between them and cups Silver. Silver moans. 

“You can fuck me,” Flint murmurs against his lips. “I want you to.”

Silver digs his hands helplessly into Flint’s hips. Heat rushes through him and his cock jerks. “I- I’ve never-“

“I have,” Flint says, smiling. Silver laughs breathlessly. Flint pulls him back in for a long kiss, squeezing and rubbing Silver’s erection through his clothes. Silver breaks away.

“Stop that or I won’t be able to fuck you,” he says. 

“Come on.” 

Flint leads him towards the bed, dropping his clothes on the ground as he goes. Silver pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall. Flint opens the laces of Silver’s trousers and tugs them down his hips. He pushes him onto the bed with a palm to his chest. Silver sits. He watches wide-eyed as Flint drops to his knees in front of him and carefully works the leg of the trousers over Sliver’s cuff and peg. When this is done, his hand lingers on the cuff. 

“Do you want to take this off too?” Flint’s voice is rough and his touch gentle. Silver nods. Flint removes the peg leg and drops a kiss to the skin of Silver’s stump. Silver can hardly feel it, but it sends a jolt of heat up his leg to his balls. He gasps.

Flint walks over to lay the peg leg on the desk and take something out of one of the drawers. Silver rubs at his stump self-consciously as Flint walks back, his soft cock bumping gently against the tops of his thighs with each stride. Silver wants him, wants him _now_. 

Flint kisses him again, his tongue fucking into his mouth. He runs his hands over Silver’s throat, his shoulders, and down his chest. Just as Silver begins to try to anticipate Flint’s next touch, Flint withdraws completely. Silver opens his eyes to see Flint pouring something from a small jar into his hand and spreading it over his fingers. Flint kneels on the bed with his legs spread apart and a wicked smile on his face. Then he presses his fingers into himself.

“Oh,” says Silver stupidly. “Oh, James.”

Flint’s eyes burn hot at that and he presses his fingers in deeper. Silver watches stunned and aroused as Flint efficiently prepares himself. He can’t quite see where Flint’s fingers are disappearing into his body, but this is the view he prefers. He watches Flint’s chest heave with the occasional gasp and his cock begin to harden again. Silver runs his nails lightly over one of Flint’s nipples and Flint moans. Silver does it again.

“Are you ready?” Silver asks eventually. His cock is hard enough to begin to hurt and it leaks at the tip. He needs to fuck Flint. 

“Almost,” Flint says. He adjust his angle and rocks his hips to drive his fingers in deeper. Silver sucks in a breath. “Here,” Flint says, holding out the jar. Silver pours some of the oil onto his hand and covers his cock in it as quickly as he can, trying to touch himself as little as possible.

“James,” he says with a warning note in his breathless voice. “If you want me to fuck you-“

Flint groans. His cock is fully hard again against his stomach. He fucks his fingers in and out a few more times, then pulls them out and turns his back, on his hands and knees before Silver, looking like a fantasy given flesh. “Do it,” he says. 

Silver steadies himself with a hand on Flint’s back. He lines up the head of his cock with Flint’s hole and presses in experimentally. They both gasp as he breeches him. 

“You don’t need to go slowly,” Flint whispers. 

Silver goes slowly. He savors the unhurried slide deeper and deeper into Flint’s ass, until he is fully encased in the tight heat of him. Silver has to pause and breathe deeply through his nose. He holds Flint’s hips steady as Flint tries to fuck himself on Silver’s cock. 

“Please, John- _move_.”

Silver pulls back and thrusts back in. It feels so good, so _good_. Silver marvels that all this pleasure has laid quietly between them, and they are only now indulging themselves in it. Flint laughs and Silver realizes he spoke out loud. His laugh turns to a beautiful gasp as Silver pumps his hips in quick succession.

“Yes,” Flint says. “Oh, just like that."

Silver presses forward and Flint presses back. They meet in mutual pleasure in the middle and Silver is flying with it all. He has never felt more powerful. They are both so powerful in this moment. There is lightning again from the storm outside. The following thunder mixes with their groans. This thing between them is dangerous. It is going to rip them to shreds one day, Silver can see the end looming already. It just makes him thrust harder and Flint clenches down around him as he comes, even more beautifully than the first time. Silver’s blood is singing and his head is spinning with pleasure. A few more frantic thrusts and he is coming too, emptying himself into Flint. He wants to give everything to him. 

They both fall onto the mattress, panting. They lay with their sides pressed against each other and their sweat mingling. Their breathing and racing heartbeats eventually slow and Silver begins to wonder if he will be allowed to stay. He tries to catch Flint’s expression out of the corner of his eye.

“Go,” Flint says, “to sleep.” 

Silver smiles, happiness expanding dangerously in his chest. He rolls to his side and tugs Flint onto his so that they are facing one another. He presses their foreheads together. Flint runs his thumb softly along the bottom of Silver’s chin and down his throat. Silver tilts his head so that their lips brush together, too lightly to be called a kiss. 

“Go to sleep,” Flint says again. After some shuffling, they settle in for sleep. Silver’s head is pillowed on Flint’s chest and Flint’s hand is tangled pleasantly in his hair. 

His eyes grow heavy and he drifts off to sleep.


End file.
